Going Down Under
by Space-facade
Summary: In which Connor is in trouble, an aboriginal myth becomes scarily real, and the team take a trip to Australia. Warning; the rating is T at the moment, but will almost definitely go up. Reviews make my day. No, seriously.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:- **This came from a particularly vicious plot bunny that hitch-hiked here in a letter from my mate in Australia. Thanks to the irritating-but-brilliant Gavin for being my sounding board and a scarily quick beta read. And yes, I'm flushing in shame over the terrible pun in the title, but I couldn't quite resist. *grin*

(Also, this is the first part of a five part series, and for the next part I require a lot more knowledge of aboriginal legends, because frankly what I know could fit on the back of a postage stamp. And I lost all faith in wikipedia when it informed me that Hitler got horny when people peed on him. So if anyone out reading this happens to actually **be **Australian, or just knows a lot about their mythology, then please, drop me a line. I'd be hugely grateful for any information I can collect. You can contact me by PM or at x_bellaitalia_x on livejournal.)

Part 1

'Professor! Professor!'

There was a crash, a muted mumble of 'Oh **shit**', and then the sound of running footsteps.

'Professor! Damnit, Cutter! Cutter!'

Staring at the door to his cupboard of an office, Ryan considered leaving the bloody great pile of paperwork mounted on one side of his desk, and going to find Temple, simply for the pleasure of binding and gagging the boy. He was aware that the qualities of balance and tact had been surgically removed from Connor at birth, but was it actually necessary for him to be rushing in and out of every room in the lower level of the ARC like a hurricane with a hat? And he might desperately need to find Cutter, but **must **he accompany his search by consistently yelling the man's name?

Ryan resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands as he heard Temple's footsteps approaching his office. Pulling a mask of professionalism back into place to hide both his weariness and his irritation, he yanked a report into view and attempted to look busy.

Five, four, three, two….

On exactly the count of one, the door burst open with a resounding crash and Connor bounded through with a shout of '**Cutter! **You in…'

He froze when he saw Ryan, probably unused to seeing the Special Forces Captain in jeans and a casual shirt, sitting behind a desk. And the fact that Ryan had a feeling his smile was of the slightly predatory variety probably hadn't helped matters either.

'Oh sorry, Captain Ryan, I was just…'

'Looking for the Professor, yes, I heard. I think the entire floor heard.'

'Right, sorry. Have you seen him?'

Ryan did an exaggerated mime of looking around the tiny room and raised an eyebrow.

'Right, no, sorry. Have you seen Stephen?'

Ryan resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk.

'Well, unless he's hiding in the filing cabinet, then no.'

Connor looked crestfallen.

'Damnit. Anyway, sorry to have bothered you.'

He started to back out of the room and the door was almost closed when Ryan stopped him.

'Wait, Connor, what was the crash?'

'W…what?'

'In the lab next door. What was the crash?'

Connor went red.

'Oh that was just…some test tubes and…stuff. It'll be fine. I swept it all up, no-one need know.'

Ryan grimaced.

'Well…'

But he didn't get much more than a word out before Connor was gone from the room, door swinging behind him.

Ryan sighed. Not his problem. He turned his attention once more to the ruddy great stack of papers on the left side of his desk. Lester had told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted Ryan's last month of reports **done **by the end of the day, and he was probably devising some suitably unpleasant mission as punishment right now. Ryan contemplated the pitifully small pile of completed paperwork on the right side of his desk. The weight distribution was so uneven he was surprised the thing wasn't tilting.

Looking at the half done report in front of him, he groaned. It was dated 25th November, and if he remembered correctly the entire day had been a complete fucking catastrophe. There had been an anomaly in an antiques store in some fancy part of the city, and if nothing else the day had certainly proved that a bull in a china shop could indeed be disastrous. Especially when it was a prehistoric bull, with extremely long and extremely fucking sharp horns that had taken an instant dislike to the human race. The day had ended with two of his men in hospital, Hart bleeding profusely from a long slash down his back, everyone else with more cuts and grazes than was healthy, and Lester with several hundred thousand pounds of damages to deal with.

Ryan picked up a pen, and twirled it idly for a few seconds. He was a Special Forces Captain. He was good at commanding operations, hand-to-hand combat, and shooting things until they were very dead. He was not good at filling in forms, writing reports, and kissing the asses of those higher up.

He signed a couple of appropriate spaces, and, after spending a minute or so trying to decipher a sentence in Cutter's illegible hand writing, he gave in. Nothing was happening fast here. Reaching back, he opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, and pulled out a six pack of beer. Tearing one off, he rummaged in his desk for a bottle opener, took a much longer swig than he had originally intended and slumped back with a sigh, noting with building irritation that the door to the room had been left open. Several hard years in the army had left him with a resolute distrust of open doors. And an equally resolute dislike of irritating university students who burst into rooms and left again without shutting the fucking door behind them.

He got up, carefully manoeuvring his six foot frame out from behind the cramped desk, between the three inches of space between the side of said desk and the filing cabinet, and then shuffled slightly back, so he could pull open the ajar door without whacking himself in the nose. Stepping out into the corridor, Ryan stretched in relief, feeling several joints pop, and decided to fuck paperwork. If Lester had complaints about missing reports he could voice them on Monday. It was his day off after all, and right now, a thirty mile run, and then a drink with the lads sounded a damn sight more appealing.

He had little idea what his team were actually doing today, but he figured that the local pub this evening would probably be a fairly safe bet. He headed up to the ARC kitchens on the main floor to check that everything was alright with Becker's team, and found them assembled there with various coffees, playing cards. The Captain himself was nowhere to be seen. When Ryan enquired as to his whereabouts, he was informed by Becker's second-in-command, a worryingly tall, dark-haired man, who went by the name of Squid, that the new Captain was checking the security system, which Ryan took to mean he was arsing around with Quinn in the absence of anything better to do. Doing reports had probably not even entered Becker's head. Still, being on this project with Lester on his back for a couple more months would soon change that outlook.

Ryan waved goodbye, and was just heading across the main floor of the ARC towards the exit and freedom when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He kept moving, silently praying it wouldn't be Temple again.

'Captain Ryan!'

It was Hart. In some surprise, Ryan turned, having taken Cutter and Hart's absence from their lab to mean that they weren't in that day. After all, no anomaly alerts generally meant that the team buggered off home, while him or Becker and their assigned men were required to stay in case of emergencies, and fill their time drinking tea, re-arranging the armoury, or carrying out other such pointless tasks.

If it had been anyone other than Hart calling, Ryan would probably have kept on walking. He had nothing against the anomaly team, but this was Becker's day, not his, and he really didn't want to have to work. But over the past few months, he had built up a sizeable amount of respect for Cutter's lab technician. The man was a professional, intelligent, extremely adept at tracking and able to handle both a weapon and the Professor with an admirable level of skill. He was also, according to Abby, a fabulous dancer, although Ryan wasn't really sure exactly why that was important. Perhaps because if you put **him** on a dance floor he turned into the equivalent of Gordon Brown dancing ballet. Still, at Hart's call, he turned, a smile on his face that wasn't as fixed as he thought it might have had to be.

Stephen smiled back, and Ryan attempted to strangle the irritated pang of envy inside him. He wasn't exactly unaware that he himself had various charms, which could, if necessary, be perfectly accented by the army uniform and certain accessories, but he had nothing on this man. Hart was all long-limbed grace, spiky hair, blue eyes and ludicrous eyelashes. And Ryan was pretty sure that underneath all those baggy clothes was a man who was in damn good shape, not that he had ever been in a position to know that for sure. Ryan might perhaps have tried to get to know him a bit better, had it not been for the fact that he had **never **seen those insanely blue eyes without a wall behind them. Stephen was polite, friendly, but if you looked a bit closer, he sent out very firm 'steer clear' signals. And Ryan wasn't about to start taking risks just on the off chance he might be able to override those signals.

He wasn't sure exactly how many people knew for sure he was gay. Becker, obviously, but then they'd grown up together, and been in the same class at Sandhurst, so the other man must be aware, even if he had never said anything. The same was probably true of most of Ryan's team, although like Becker, they never mentioned it. But really, that was about it. Ryan liked to keep his private life exactly that, private. Although he did have a sneaking suspicion that both Abby and Jenny suspected. Women's intuition or whatever his ex-wife used to call it. And sadly that meant it probably wouldn't take Sarah all that long to catch on either.

Jerking his attention back to matters at hand, Ryan refocused on Hart, who was watching him with one eyebrow slightly raised. Ryan got the impression he had been talking for some time. God, he must be tired, if he was allowing his attention to wander to **that **degree.

The corner of Stephen's mouth quirked up in amusement, and Ryan got the feeling Hart was perfectly aware that he hadn't heard a word said.

'Tired,' he muttered by way of explanation. 'Been a long day.'

A line appeared between Stephen's eyebrows, which meant he was confused or thinking. Although why Ryan knew that he wasn't sure.

'I thought today was Becker's shift?'

'Yeah, but between us we've got more outstanding paperwork than any man should have to do in a lifetime, and I've got a feeling Lester wants my balls in a vice.'

Stephen winced.

'Sorry to have to say this then, but he wants to see the whole team in his office. Immediately.'

'Why?'

'Something to do with something Connor found.'

'Not the grievous bodily harm he caused to the lab?'

'**What?'**

Ryan had a feeling he wasn't supposed to have said that.

'What's Connor done now?'

'He was looking for you and Cutter this morning, and there was a god almighty crash from the lab. Not sure what it was, Connor said 'test tubes and stuff'.'

Stephen looked horrified.

'God, not the test tubes with the samples from the Permian?'

Ryan made a face that indicated he neither knew nor had any inclination to know what went on in the labs.

'Fucking hell, those took **hours** to set up! And we aren't going to be able to get anymore, the anomaly's closed.'

Ryan grimaced.

'Any chance when you tear a strip of Connor for this that you won't tell him I told you?'

Stephen's smile was grim.

'Oh I wouldn't worry about Connor, Captain Ryan. You could take him blindfolded and with one hand behind your back and you know it. Anyhow, I expect that Cutter will kill Connor long before he gets to you.'

Ryan cleared his throat.

'Right. Anyway, Lester's office. If it isn't a lecture on not running in the laboratory, I'd like to know what's happened, get out of here, and not see anything older than my grandmother until Monday.'

Ryan turned, and headed for Lester's office, pretending not to have heard Stephen's muttered 'hear, hear.'

On entering Lester's office, Ryan's first impression was that he hadn't known it was possible to fit that many people in one room. Lester was seated behind his immaculate desk, so different from Ryan's own, and was shooting looks of extreme dislike at a rumpled and dusty Danny Quinn who was slouched back against the side of it knocking several previously parallel pens off kilter, and rumpling a document that was probably highly classified and extremely important.

Over in the far corner was Connor, who was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and wringing his hands, clearly extremely excited. He was muttering fast in geek into Cutter's left ear, and Ryan felt a momentary sting of pity for the Professor.

Abby, Sarah and Jenny were clustered in the corner behind Lester's desk, grouping together as though for protection, which was highly possibly considering Squid and another soldier he didn't recognise were standing too close for comfort; their combat uniforms and guns making them look larger than life and just as out of place in the office.

Becker was slouching against the glass wall, as though trying to prop it up, hands in his pockets and dust in his hair. He looked, in Ryan's opinion, younger than ever.

'Ah Mr Hart, Captain Ryan. Nice of you to finally join us.'

The emphasis was on the 'finally' and Lester's smile was a little too fixed and a little too toothy. Ryan and Becker exchanged a glance.

'It would appear we have something of a problem.'

Lester spoke again, and despite the snark his voice held undertones of exhaustion and Ryan couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the man.

'Problem, sir?'

That was Becker, and Ryan instantly recognised his 'pacify the boss' tone. Becker could be a bit of an idiot in the field sometimes, the curse of fast-track promotion, but it had to be said that his arse-licking skills were a lot better than Ryan's. Which considering he was queer and Becker was straight as a die was really saying something.

Lester heaved a sigh.

'It would appear that we have our first overseas anomaly.'

Connor jumped in, clearly needing to say something to avoid bursting with excitement.

'It's amazing! A farmer found it, and took photos, and it's all over the internet!'

'All over the internet?' Sarah did not sound convinced. 'I was checking some facts on the internet this morning, I didn't see any mention of it.'

'What Mr Temple means is that it all over the conspiracy freak sites that he frequents. The story doesn't appear to have actually broken properly yet.'

All eyes turned to Jenny. She nodded.

'Well, that should be fairly easy to control then. I'm sure we can find an excuse to force the moderator's into deleting the material. They'll have to sign the Official Secrets Act, but other than that there shouldn't be a problem.'

Lester sighed.

'Sadly, the internet coverage is the least of our worries. Professor Cutter?'

Cutter stepped forward, pinning a blown up photo of what looked like a…giant snake skin. Next to him, Ryan felt Hart twitch involuntarily in disgust.

'What **is **that?'

Cutter ran a hand through his hair.

'We're…not exactly sure. It appears to be a giant snake skin of some kind, but it has very unusual markings. It doesn't match anything in the fossil records.'

'Did it definitely come through the anomaly?'

'No doubt about it. It was found in the bushes, a couple of feet away, and it definitely isn't from any creature native to Australia.'

Sarah's head shot up.

'**Australia?' **She moved forward, peering closely at the photograph. 'No…no, it can't be.' She looked up at Cutter, who grimaced. 'You have got to be **joking**.'

'Clearly, Doctor Page, the rest of us lesser mortals are missing something. Care to explain?' This was Lester, and it really wasn't Ryan's imagination, the man looked wrung out.

Sarah was still staring alternatively at the photo and at Cutter, the expression on her face one of complete disbelief. Luckily Connor's self-control snapped again and he jumped in before Lester could start firing people.

'The man…the man that found it? He was babbling, saying all kinds of stuff about **monsters**. He claimed to have seen a giant snake in the bushes. He said when he saw it, a **rainbow **formed in the sky.'

If that was supposed to have been a bombshell it fell fairly flat, as everyone else continued to stare at Connor, Sarah and Cutter with expressions of complete confusion. Ryan was no better off. Giant snakes and rainbows? His mind typed that into his mental computer but all his paperwork-addled brain could come up with was gay snakes.

He glanced at Hart next to him, but the man didn't appear to be making connections either. He was still staring at the huge snake skin, an expression of extreme distaste adorning his features. Ryan tried Becker next, with fairly little hope, but to his surprise, he could see a dawning understanding in the other man's eyes. Becker narrowed his eyes slightly, as though contemplating whether or not to actually speak.

'Perhaps I'm being ridiculous, but you're not suggesting that that,' he waved a hand at the photograph, 'that that **thing **could be the Rainbow Serpent?'

Sarah beamed at him, but the look that Connor sent implied that out of all the people in the room Becker was the one he would have least expected to pick up on the hint. Sadly for Temple, Becker didn't miss it.

'I'm not all brawn and no brains you know, Connor.' His tone was acidic.

'Could have fooled me.' Ryan couldn't resist. Becker **glared **at him.

'Now, now children. Listen to what the nice Professor has to say.' Clearly Lester wasn't about to risk a fight breaking out in his perfect office. Cutter took to the floor.

'As we're all aware we've recently been looking at the connections the anomalies might have to mythology and legends. As…**some **of you may be aware, one of the biggest aboriginal myths is the Rainbow Serpent, said to be a giant snake that inhabited the deep waterholes of Australia, and revealed itself to people as a rainbow, moving through water and rain.'

Lester interrupted.

'Surely you aren't actually implying that this creature is the mythical Rainbow Serpent?'

'No, I'm implying that the mythical Rainbow Serpent is in fact this creature.'

There was a pause as everyone tried to wrap their minds around that. Then Abby spoke for the time.

'So…you think that this anomaly has been opening and closing like the one in the Forest of Dean, and these…creatures have been coming through?'

Cutter ran his hand through his increasingly tousled hair again.

'I think it's a distinct possibility, yes.'

'But…if the Rainbow Serpent is actually just a giant snake, or several, then how do you explain the rainbows? It can't be a coincidence that they keep forming nearby.'

Abby had a point there, in Ryan's opinion. Sadly, Connor appeared to have an explanation.

'Rainbows, well, they're a meteorological and optical phenomenon and…'

'In English, if you please Mr Temple.'

Thank God for Lester.

'Sorry. Anyway, they form when the Sun shines onto droplets of water in the Earth's atmosphere, right? So what if the rainbows that form aren't just a coincidence? What if the anomaly that the snake or snakes have been coming through leads from a time where the air had a much higher water content? If some of that air was coming through the anomaly, it might explain why there have been so many rainbow sightings with the snakes.'

Ryan had no real interest in rainbows, and knew next to nothing about weather patterns but that made sense even to him.

'So what happens now? Is there a team out in Australia that deals with this kind of thing?'

Lester sighed.

'I've spoken to the minister, and depressingly he thinks it is necessary to send a team out there to take a look.'

Stephen spoke up, looking rather pale.

'Well, it might be an anomaly and a large snake, but it's an **Australian **anomaly and an **Australian **large snake. Can't they deal with it?'

'I've spoken to the Australian government, and either they really don't know anything about anything, or they have become worryingly adept at lying. It would appear that we have no choice but to send a team to Australia.'

Murmurs of excitement broke out around the room, and looking at Temple expression, Ryan wondered whether he might actually burst.

'It doesn't need all of us though, does it?' said Stephen, sounding, to Ryan's ears, slightly desperate, 'I'm quite happy to stay and oversee things here.' His eyes were large, and Ryan suspected that if it had been anyone other than Lester he might have been fluttering his eyelashes.

Sadly for Stephen, Lester appeared to have made up his mind already, and he bulldozed right through his offer.

'Professor, you will be heading up the team going to Australia. You will take Mr Temple, Miss Maitland, and **Mr Hart**. Quinn, you're staying here, with Doctor Page, and Miss Brown as back-up. Much against my will, I have been instructed to send the bestsoldiers with Professor Cutter, to try and insure against complete fiasco, and that means you, Ryan, you, Becker, and Corporal Martin.'

There was a brief pause, as the team stared around in confusion, trying to work out who the hell Corporal Martin was, before understanding dawned, and all eyes flicked to Squid, all six foot six of him, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor.

There was another few seconds silence before the complaints began; Stephen **really **didn't see why his skills were necessary, Sarah didn't see why she had to stay here because mythology was her area of expertise, Becker wanted to know exactly who would be heading up the soldiers at the ARC if both he and Ryan were required to go, and Connor was muttering that he always suffered from terrible sunburn.

Lester held up a hand, a pained expression crossing his features.

'Mr Hart, I don't care whether your fear of snakes renders you completely unable to enjoy this opportunity, your tracking skills will be invaluable and you **will **go. Doctor Page, quite frankly, we need you here working on the artefact, and you can display your expertise just as easily over a telephone. Captain Becker, I am bringing in a man called Lieutenant Jon Lyle to oversee security at the ARC. I'm told he's very good. And Mr Temple, I really have nothing to say, except remember your sun hat.'

There was silence. It would appear Lester had made up his mind. They were going to Australia. Lester stood up, flapping his hands as though it was sheep he was herding out of his office.

'Now, is everything clear? Excellent. You will fly to the other side of the world using the tax payers money, catch this snake, sort out this anomaly, and for heaven's sake, **try not to get eaten.**'


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks again to Gav for the beta read. Sadly it would appear that no-one knows anything more about the legend of the Rainbow Snake than I do...so I'm afraid I'm rather 'flying by the seat of my pants' (isn't that what they say?). Please forgive any factual errors, and feel free to correct any glaring ones. Thanks to katewantstobecomeanactor, ironicallynameless, SallyJupiter90 and Rollieo122 for the reviews :):):)**

It wasn't until the next day and their departure was imminent that Ryan started to think this might be a really really bad idea.

Lester had arranged a private flight to take them to Australia simply because there were certain pieces of equipment they needed to take that wouldn't be allowed on a passenger aircraft. And if he, Becker and Squid went to Australia to protect the team and ended up with no weapons they would be fairly fucking useless all round.

It was the usual twenty four hour flight out, and they were to be landing at a small private airfield, a couple of hundred miles inland from Darwin. At least, that was the plan. But right now, Ryan was doubtful they were even going to manage to get on the plane without some kind of disaster. There were two Government SUV's waiting for them, but sadly no-one appeared ready to leave. That was, with the exception of him, Hart and Becker. The three of them were standing in a line, each with a small holdall at their feet, and each wearing identical expressions of incredulous disgust.

Inside the ARC's reception, Abby was pacing up and down shouting into her mobile, and Ryan had no real idea exactly what was wrong but knowing Miss Maitland it was probably something to do with her extensive collection of pets. He had overheard Quinn offering to stop by and take care of them for her, but Abby had dismissed him with a withering look, saying she knew someone very good and very trustworthy. Although if she kept using that raised tone, Ryan had a feeling she might have to settle for Danny after all.

Connor was standing by the first of the SUV's, its luggage compartment already three-quarters full of various equipment, and two suitcases. All of which belonged to Connor. At this precise moment Temple was staring forlornly at a third suitcase that had fallen out and split open, as though wondering whether it had fallen from the sky. And from the look of everything that had fallen out, Ryan didn't think he was ever going to get the damn thing closed again.

Squid was nowhere to be seen, effectively dispelling the myth that all military men are supposed to be punctual. However, Becker was insistent that his second-in-command was reliable, and **would **turn up, although his exact turn of phrase had been 'Squid's damn reliable in comparison to most of the tea-drinking, biscuit-scoffing **fuckwits **on my team' and having had firsthand experience of Becker's team, Ryan was uncertain exactly how much that stood for.

And as for Cutter, well the Professor was nowhere to be seen. Officially Missing In Action. Still, Stephen was just as insistent as Becker had been that Cutter **would **appear, even if he was a little late. And just as before Ryan remained completely unconvinced.

* * *

Half an hour later, things hadn't changed much. Except now there were four people lined up waiting, four small holdalls, and four expressions of incredulous disgust. Squid had arrived, only fifteen minutes later than required, looking rather stressed out. When Becker had asked him why the bloody hell he wasn't on time, he'd said that his six year old daughter Mollie was showing worrying military tendencies, and had insisted he iron all his socks before he leave. Clearly this little six-year-old had some fairly impressive tricks up her sleeve because she certainly had all six-foot-six of her army corporal father wrapped around her little finger. Although when he'd expressed this opinion, Squid had shoved a rather battered photograph at him, and Ryan could almost see why. Squid's little girl had the largest brown eyes he'd ever seen and they were the exact shade of melted chocolate. Not helping matters was the fact that her hair was curly chestnut brown and she had ludicrously long eyelashes than rivalled Stephen's. And quite the devastating pout as well.

Aside from that, Miss Maitland had now completely vanished, and from the downtrodden look on her face, Ryan thought she had probably gone to grovel to Quinn, and Temple was sitting on his third suitcase, still vainly attempting to zip it closed. There was still no sign of Cutter. Stephen was still loyal, insisting 'He's fashionably late for everything' but if they didn't leave soon then Lester would be out here and then those would become Hart's last words.

He really did hate scientists.

* * *

Four hours later, they had finally handed their entire luggage over to the pilot of the plane, with endless instructions from Connor on what went where, and what had to be kept upright, and what was most important, and what was breakable.

On boarding the plane, Becker, Squid and Ryan had exchanged relieved looks. It might not be first class but in the army, when someone uttered the words private plane, it usually meant hunkered down on the floor amongst various boxes of weapons and animal cages in some battered old military craft. At least this plane was free of grenades and animal droppings and actually had seats.

Ryan had presumed that Becker and Squid would sit together, but watching Squid manoeuvre his long limbs into a seat and settle with his back to the window and his feet in the aisle he changed his mind. There were only seven double seats, so everyone else had to pair up, and watching Abby and the Professor settle down, both talking animatedly about ancient reptiles, and Hart and Temple each take a window seat, Ryan did some fast mental calculations. He couldn't sit with Temple; he didn't really have anything against the boy, but if he was required to spend twenty four hours in his company then Connor wouldn't survive. Stephen it was.

Lowering himself into the seat, he shot Stephen a half grin, which the younger man returned, clearly in no doubt as to why Ryan was sitting with him. Across the aisle, Becker shot Ryan a glare, but to Ryan's experienced eye (and nearly two decades of friendship had given him a **very **experienced eye) the glare was oddly half-hearted.

As the plane finally rumbled into life, and trundled off down the runway, Ryan settled back and closed his eyes. He'd had so little sleep recently, what with one thing and another, that twenty four uninterrupted hours were something just short of blissful. He felt the bump of the wheels that meant the plane had left the floor and felt his back press back into the seat, as the small plane headed upwards for the open skies.

'Are you alright?'

Ryan opened his eyes again, shooting Stephen a look of irritation, before realising that the question hadn't been directed at him. Turning sideways, he saw that Connor had gone a fetching shade of pale green, and was gripping Becker's knee as though it was a lifeline. Ryan couldn't tell if he was sick or just frightened. Becker, the useless prat, was staring fixedly ahead, allowing Connor to grip his leg, and showing no outward signs of realisation at all, apart from the tense set of his shoulders, and the lines at the corners of his eyes, which Ryan had spent years mentally referring to as the 'fuck off I'm stressed' lines.

'Conn? Are you okay, mate?'

Stephen tried again, this time getting a response, as Connor turned and shot him a weak smile.

'Yeah fine, you know me, totally fine. Just get a bit…jumpy at the take-off and the landing. It's nothing, really, I'm fine.'

Yep. Fine and babbling. Ryan stared at the fabulously unmoving Becker in disbelief. Luckily Squid was now aware of the proceedings, and reaching around the corner of the seat, he kicked Becker hard. Becker didn't even flinch, just turned and sent a panicked look to Ryan, who mouthed 'do something, you useless prat' in return.

The set in Becker's shoulders became even more obvious, but he did at least turn sideways to Connor and begin prying his fingers from his knee. Connor uttered a noise that sounded worryingly like a whimper as the plane hit some turbulence, still not quite balanced, and his fingers sunk deeper into Becker's lower thigh.

'Temple, stop, you're giving me bruises.'

Stephen and Ryan exchanged a look. They were both thinking the same thing apparently, 'fuck's sake Becker, you useless sod'.

'S..s..sorry.'

'Look, its fine to be afraid of flying. Everyone's afraid of something. But please let go of me.'

The plane was starting to steady now, moving more smoothly, and some of Connor's colour had returned. He released Becker with suitably apologetic puppy dog eyes.

'What are you afraid of then?'

Ryan grinned. This should be interesting.

'Tea breaks. Now, you okay?'

Tea breaks? Ryan had to strangle a laugh, and next to him Stephen had gone suspiciously still. Squid wasn't subtle at all, he was snorting with laughter.

Connor smiled at Becker. It was a small smile, but still there, and he definitely looked a healthier colour. The plane had reached altitude now, and was flying smoothly in a horizontal line, as opposed to up, and as a result Connor's composure was returning. And unfortunately for Becker, his energy with it.

Then the plane hit another bump, and most of its passengers jumped slightly. Connor yelped, and his fingers reinstated themselves in Becker's upper thigh. Becker yelped as well, sounding like a puppy that had just had its tail trodden on. He yanked Connor's hand away.

'Seriously, Temple, stop.'

Connor still looked vaguely panicky. Becker shot Ryan another 'help me' look. 'Distract him' Ryan mouthed. Next to him Stephen was muttering something else. Becker squinted and then realisation dawned. He raised an eyebrow at Stephen, who nodded innocently. Becker turned back to Connor, who was peering anxiously out of the window.

'So, Connor. Who was your favourite Doctor Who?'

Connor swung to face him, the look on his face one of pure delight.

'You're a Who fan? **You**?'

Becker's expression became distinctly less friendly. Connor winced.

'I mean, that's…that's brilliant! You know, no-one else on this team appreciates that program properly?'

'Erm…no…'

'My favourite Doctor? Well that's easy, it's got to be Tom Baker hasn't it? I mean the scarf and…'

Ryan stopped listening after that. Connor was well and truly away. Becker's expression was rapidly glazing over, and he obviously didn't have much of a clue what Connor was actually saying. Unfortunately for him, it would appear that Connor only needed the occasional nod or murmur of agreement and he was happy to just babble on.

Ryan turned to look at Stephen, who was watching the scene with a smirk of amusement.

'You did that on purpose didn't you?'

Ryan could hear the laughter bubbling in his own voice. Stephen merely raised an eyebrow.

'Did what on purpose Captain Ryan?'

Ryan laughed out loud this time.

'You clever **bastard**!'

Stephen grinned at him, unrepentant, and turned away to face the window.

* * *

Twenty hours later, they were more than halfway through the journey, and Ryan was sufficiently caught up on sleep. Further back, Cutter and Abby were both dead to the world, and he had spent an amused five minutes pondering the fact that Cutter even managed to snore in a regional accent.

Squid was reading a battered old copy of The Shining, obviously immersed, despite the equally obvious fact it was not the first time he had read it.

Connor and Becker were both asleep as well. Connor slumped sideways against Becker's shoulder, head tucked against Becker's neck. Becker was normally a man who avoided any kind of physical contact while asleep; months of sharing tents with him on missions had taught Ryan that, if he ended up close to Becker, seeking the warmth of another human being, Becker would inevitably instantly roll away. But for some reason, Becker's mostly infallible sleep instincts were ignoring Connor's presence, and Becker was merely leant back against the seat, hair still unruffled, breathing evenly, and allowing Connor to use him as a human pillow.

Settling back against the seat, Ryan checked his watch. According to him, it was just gone six in the evening in Britain, which meant on the other side of the world, dawn should just be about to break. After all, February in Britain meant height of summer in Australia didn't it? So the day should be starting early. And sure enough, on looking out of the window, Ryan could see the dark sky was starting to lighten, the inky black fading to a deep blue, and then, as he sat watching, by-passing blue and becoming a pale washed out grey.

Next to him Stephen shifted, and a glance at the other man showed Ryan brilliant blue eyes, softened and unguarded by sleep, slowly open, fluttering drowsily. Stephen stared at him for a moment, clearly not realising exactly where he was, and Ryan had to swallow hard, but then another one of Cutter's fantastically Scottish snores broke the silence and Stephen blinked once, twice and sat up suddenly, the shutters in his eye clanging back down as reality set it. He gave Ryan a slightly guilty smile, and turned away to face the window.

A glance at Squid showed that he was now asleep, draped back against the window, breathing heavily, in a position that guaranteed one hell of a crick in the neck when he woke up. For some reason, he had marked his place in the book, probably unintentionally, by ramming it between his cheek and the window, and reaching over, Ryan carefully worked it free, flipping the book upside down over his legs.

Settling back down he saw Stephen's questioning glance. He smiled.

'Didn't want the useless sod to wake up with the pages of his book glued to his face by drool, and the words of 'The Shining' imprinted on the side of his nose.'

Stephen snorted with laughter.

'Nice to see you take care of your second-in-command.'

Ryan smiled.

'Squid isn't my team. He's Becker's. My second-in-command is back at the ARC, helping the new Lieutenant run the show.'

Ryan squashed the uncomfortable feeling inside him at the idea of going into the field without his usual team by his side. He was sure Squid was a good man, but he was too used to his back-up being in the form of Alec Lytton and the other six.

Stephen nodded. He looked at Ryan, blue eyes unusually shrewd.

'You wish he was here.'

It wasn't a question. Ryan shrugged, neither wanting to discuss his team's dynamics with Stephen, or think about how the other man had read him so well. The scientists needed to trust the Special Forces soldiers implicitly, and in order for them to do that they had to know nothing about the way they worked.

'I'd feel more comfortable. Becker's a damn good leader, and he'll vouch for Squid, but I've got used to having Lytton and the others as back-up. Longest I've kept the same team of men, this bloody project.'

Stephen's eyes weren't sympathetic, and he didn't reply. Apparently he had picked up on 'don't pity me' vibes Ryan was sending out. This was good, because there was **nothing**, apart from terrorists, that Ryan hated more than being pitied.

Looking out of the window, Ryan saw the first rays of sunlight start to pierce through the gloomy grey clouds of five am. The sunlight was soft, yellows and peaches and it made the clouds glow. Ryan was not a poetic person, but the sunrise looked so beautiful from up here, that he thought he might have to make an exception.

After a few minutes he became aware that Stephen was watching him again.

'Beautiful isn't it?'

Stephen shrugged.

'Yes. It is. Would be more beautiful if I could watch it from a hill in the Lake District rather than from a plane headed to Australia.'

See, Ryan understood all about phobias, and how they affected some people really badly, but he couldn't quite convince himself that Stephen's apparent fear of snakes was all that was causing his obvious reluctance to be on this trip. Stephen Hart was a professional, and from what Ryan had seen of him so far, if it had been just Ophidiophobia affecting him, Ryan was pretty sure he would have swallowed it and kept going. Something else was going on, but god knows he wasn't going to pry. He settled for ignoring the bitterness and asking a safer question.

'You like the Lake District?'

Not even Stephen's guarded eyes could completely conceal how his face lit up at that. For a second he looked years younger.

'Yeah. Love it. Forget abroad, it's one of the most beautiful places in the world. And it's right on our doorstep. I used to go there camping when I was younger. Biking tours, hiking, water sports, that kind of thing.'

'Biking tours?'

Stephen nodded, eyes alight with enthusiasm. Ryan grinned. Clearly they had a lot more in common that he had previously thought.

* * *

Ryan's next awakening was a lot less comfortable. His legs and back ached, he had a crick in his neck, and he was itching to stretch. Next to him Stephen was still asleep. Ryan couldn't stop a smile spreading over his face, and cursed himself for his weakness. After discovering a mutual interest in all physical non-team sports, they had sat for the best part of two hours, watching the sunrise, and talking quietly.

And Ryan had found that Stephen wasn't just a talented, good looking man, he was sharp, intelligent and funny as well, and all off a sudden he was really struggling not to re-examine his decision to take heed of Stephen's 'steer clear' vibes.

Something was really not right with Stephen Hart, and Ryan always avoided the bleeding heart cases like he avoided seeing his poisonous excuse for a mother, but unfortunately there was something about Stephen that made him want to fix him. He genuinely liked the man, and he had a feeling it was going to cause him some trouble.

Hearing a raised voice, Ryan glanced sideways. Squid was once more immersed in his book, and Becker and Connor had rejoined the world of the living. Connor still appeared to be talking enthusiastically about sci-fi, but the scene had changed. Becker was now giving as good as he got, talking with almost the same level of enthusiasm as Temple, and even adding the occasional hand gesture; something which, with the generally unmoving captain, was a huge rarity. What the hell were they talking about?

A couple of minutes eavesdropping confirmed for Ryan that they **were **still talking about science fiction, but they'd moved on from Doctor Who to the far more appropriate Jurassic Park.

Ryan couldn't resist.

'Having fun Becker?'

Becker jumped slightly, clearly not having realised Ryan was awake, and smiled guiltily. Sadly for him Connor jumped in.

'Hey Ryan, do you know, **this man**,' this was accompanied with a dramatic wave at Becker, in case Ryan was having trouble keeping up, '**this man**, thinks that the **sixth **Star Wars film was **better **than the **third**?!'

'Unbelievable.' Ryan deadpanned, having seen neither film.

'**I know!' **Connor completely missed the sarcasm, and turned, dragging Becker back into the debate. Before he got re-immersed, Becker shot Ryan a look that was part threatening, part pleading. Ryan beamed back, his eyes wide and completely innocent. Behind Becker, out of his line of view, Squid appeared to be pissing himself with silent laughter.

Captain Becker a sci-fi fan, who'd have thought it?

* * *

Half an hour later the plane touched down in Australia. The landing had been even bumpier than the take-off and at one point Ryan and Stephen had shared serious doubts about the pilot. However, Becker and Connor had moved on to debating various novels, none of which Ryan had ever heard of, and Connor didn't even seem to notice the landing, looking around in surprise when they hit the ground with a jolt, as though wondering how he hadn't noticed them falling out of the sky.

Unsurprisingly, Squid was the first one off the plane, unfurling to his full height, and stretching various arms and legs in jerky tandem, accompanied by the sound of several joints popping and sighs of satisfaction. Ryan and Stephen were a close second, with Becker hot on their heels.

Outside, it was dusty and unbelievably hot, the sun beat down on the stone-baked ground, and the only sign of civilisation was a small wooden cabin, built next to the air strip, and a large battered Land Rover.

Ryan watched with some amusement, as seconds after stepping into the heat, Connor rummaged in his backpack and produced a floppy brown sunhat, which he rammed down over his ears. Clearly he was taking Lester's advice.

The pilot stepped from the plane, unloaded their luggage from the hold, and helped them pile it all into the back of the Land Rover. He then handed Cutter the keys to the car. The Professor looked a bit confused.

'Is there no-one to meet us?'

The pilot shrugged and shook his head.

'Couldn't find anyone, mate. It's not a problem though, you just follow that road for a couple a' miles, take the first on the left, and you should come to a small town. Impossible to get lost. The hotel you're staying in is the only one there, and it's about halfway down the high street on the left. Called The Half Pint.'

Connor shrugged.

'Seems simple enough guys!'

Ryan and Cutter exchanged a look. Clearly in both of their experiences things could **never **be that simple.

Suddenly Abby spoke up.

'Is there only the one car?'

Ryan and Cutter exchanged another look. Cutter held the keys high, announced 'I'm driving' and hurried for the front seat. Becker and Squid exchanged a glance and made a simultaneous dash for the passenger seat, both yelling 'shotgun!' Squid's longer legs got him there before Becker, but as he opened the door, Becker rammed him from the side, knocking him off balance, and enabling the Captain to slide into the passenger seat and slam the door in Squid's indignant face.

Ryan groaned. Him and the other three walked over and contemplated the cramped dusty back seat of the Land Rover. Connor was looking from the small space to Squid and back again. Squid sighed.

'I'll ride with the luggage.'

Swinging himself over the back of the truck, he settled down, wedging himself between a large case of Something Important and one of Connor's suitcases. Whacking the Something Important sideways so he had enough room to stretch, he sent Connor a death glare when the young man yelped in indignation.

With defeated grumbles and sighs, Abby, Stephen and Ryan crammed themselves into the back seat, Abby slotted neatly in the middle.

Cutter started the engine, and pulled away, with the words,

'Should only take about twenty minutes.'

* * *

Two and a bit hours later, they finally pulled in to the car park of the hotel. They were all hot, dusty, and extremelyirritated.

When the pilot had said 'take the first road on the left' he had apparently neglected to mention that before the first **road **there were about thirty odd dusty tracks on the left as well. Connor had been insistent that he had meant the first dusty track, and Stephen equally insistent that he had meant the first real road. Sadly for Stephen, and for the rest of them actually, Cutter had decided to listen to Connor, and they had ended up driving miles out of their way, become completely and utterly lost and had to stop at a handily placed farm for directions. The farmer had looked a bit shocked at the fact that there was a Land Rover with a freakishly tall soldier attached to the back in the middle of what Ryan could only presume was the Outback, but had been extremely helpful nevertheless.

However, despite the helpful farmer, it had been the journey from Hell, and Ryan had never been gladder to arrive at a destination. Now perhaps they could settle down in the quiet privacy of their rooms and spend a couple of hours each in a cold shower.

Ten minutes later, he was starting to think that this trip was doomed. They all stood in reception, luggage heaped at their feet, covered in dust and with identical puppy-dog eyed expressions. They probably resembled a group of mistreated, orphan scientists and soldiers.

Cutter was angrily gesturing at the reception lady, clearly unable to understand exactly **how **she could have failed to note down their booking, and exactly **how **she no longer had the requisite rooms. He didn't seem to be getting very far though, because the lady just kept apologising and saying she was sorry, but she no longer had enough rooms for them all. She didn't **understand **how the booking could have gotten deleted, but there was **really **nothing she could do.

A look at Becker's face told Ryan that the other Captain was about an inch away from snapping.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Ryan dumped his bag on his bed, and looked across at his new roommate. Becker had turned out to be surprisingly effective when it came to garnering a place to stay.

Clearly the dust and dirt had taken its toll on him, and eventually his temper had frayed. Stalking up to the reception lady, he had leant over until his nose was inches from hers and hissed,

'I do **not **care whether you have lost our booking, and I do **not care **that you no longer have **seven **rooms available. We are hot, we are tired, we are filthy, and we **want somewhere to stay. **Now, you have four rooms am I correct?'

The hotel lady had nodded tremulously. Becker had smiled, looking like he was about to take a bit out of the end of her nose.

'**Then give us the keys, and we will work something out.' **

Unsurprisingly, the woman had handed over the keys without a murmur of complaint, merely muttering, 'Have a nice stay, sir' before hurriedly backing away into the office behind.

Which was how Ryan had ended up sharing a room with Stephen Hart. Abby, being the only woman, had received the privilege of a single room, Cutter and Squid were sharing, as were Becker and Connor. This left Ryan with Stephen. A fact which he was trying to mind but didn't.

Stephen hadn't seemed hugely bothered either. He'd only muttered a prayer of thanks it was a twin room and not a double, something which Ryan had heartily agreed with.

They had stomped up the stairs, lugging their bags and dreaming of cold showers and beer. Ryan had swiped the key card through the door of number 312, and then staggered sideways, as Stephen had pushed passed him with a cheeky smile, announcing,

'I get the bed by the window.'


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:- **Thanks to Rollieo122, Xanthaie, katewantstobecomeanactor, Nicco1395, and shadowlupus for the reviews!! This is for Xanthaie, because I failed to deliver X-Men fic and so am trying to appease her with a Primeval offering *vbg*.

Part 3

Two hours later, Ryan was feeling much more human. Never before had he had felt quite so much appreciation for a cold shower and a change of clothes. And considering he'd served in some really foul places, this only highlighted just how much his standards had changed since the start of the anomaly project.

Originally the plan had been to start the search for the snake that afternoon, but after the horribly long flight and the not-as-long but equally horrible drive, Cutter had put his foot down. Lester had not been best pleased to say the least, but it was somehow much easier to defy the man's orders when he was on the other side of the world and you couldn't see his glare. Anyway, thought Ryan, as he stifled his seventh yawn in so many minutes, the Jet Lag Monster might run screaming from Lester when he travelled abroad but it had no such qualms about making its presence known to the rest of them. He was knackered.

However despite the fact that his and Stephen's so called 'double room' was really too small for two full-grown men and the fact that he couldn't stop yawning, Ryan was strangely content. It was the first time he had been officially (well…) off-duty with nothing to do for a very long time. And even though he was in a foreign country, in the middle of nowhere, about to embark on a treasure hunt with a mythical snake as the prize, he was determined to enjoy it.

Collapsing back on his (frustratingly single) bed, Ryan huffed a sigh of relief. The room was hot, despite the incessant whine of an air conditioning unit and he was fanatically grateful that he didn't have to be dressed in combats. Really it would be nice not to have to be dressed at all, but considering Stephen would probably emerge from the bathroom at any moment, even his heat-and-dust addled brain could recognise that that idea fell into the category of 'highly inappropriate'.

Feeling in dire need of some alcohol, and something to eat, Ryan tried to work up the energy to move, but his body wasn't having any of it. Instead he stayed where he was, sprawled across the bed in a starfish shape, and idly wondered how the others were getting on.

It would be interesting to see how Squid and Cutter survived in the same room. Squid was one of the laxer members of the SAS men, reliable when it counted and excellent in the field but with a complete disregard for neatness and order (with the exception of his guns, which were lovingly cleaned and polished daily). This perhaps might save him from getting up Cutter's nose too much; Lester's use of the adjective 'maverick' fitted the Professor well, and he had apparently had a genetically-inbuilt dislike of taking orders and following rules. Which were the two staple principals of the army.

Becker and Connor…previously Ryan would have said that those two sharing a room would be nothing short of a complete fiasco. Becker was a far more patient man than Ryan would ever be, and he was a lot better at dealing with people as well, but that probably wouldn't have saved Connor from being gagged and handcuffed by the end of the week. Now though…after Becker's little performance on the plane (which despite his pleading looks was definitely getting back to the team at the ARC), Ryan couldn't help but wonder whether the Special Forces Captain might have a whole other use for those handcuffs in mind.

Recalling vaguely that dinner was served at six, Ryan closed his eyes, and allowed himself to doze for a while. However, he must have been more tired than he'd realised, because he awoke with a start, an indeterminable length of time later, to the click of a door and footsteps. Brain not fully in gear yet, he responded instinctively, jolting upright, hand going automatically for his gun, until he realised he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with no holster in sight.

Unfortunately, instead of an intruder, he was met by the sight of Stephen Hart, rumpled, damp from the shower, and mouth-wateringly topless observing his little performance, blue eyes wide with shock and just a tinge of amusement. Ryan winced.

'Sorry. Army instincts. Built in.'

The shock vanished, and Hart grinned at him, tousling his wet hair with one hand. Ryan fought not to be rendered speechless as he watched smooth tanned skin shift over muscle.

'Don't worry, Captain, your virtue is safe with me.'

Yes, thought Ryan, as he was treated to a perfect view of Stephen's arse while the man rummaged around for a shirt, but sadly it isn't the safety of **my **virtue that's the problem here.

* * *

At precisely six o'clock, Stephen and Ryan descended the stairs in search of food. By now, both men were starving, but neither wanted to eat from the mini-bar; Ryan because he objected to the price due to moral reasons, and Stephen because he objected to the nutritious quality of the 'food'.

They met Connor on the stairs, wearing purple skinny jeans (completely suited to heat…), pointy-toed boots, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt under a dark red waistcoat. It was typical Connor, but alcohol and sleep-free as he was, Ryan averted his eyes from the jeans. A glance to his left told him Stephen was doing the same.

When they emerged from the narrow dim corridors into the airy reception, Ryan noticed for the first time a suspicious looking bruise on Connor's cheekbone. Hart shifted, clearly having noticed it too, and the two of them exchanged a glance. Was it possible the heat had eroded away all of Becker's patience and he'd snapped on the very first night?

Clearly sensing eyes on him, Connor shifted uncomfortably. At Ryan's enquiring eyebrow, the younger man waved a self conscious hand towards his cheekbone, flushing slightly.

'Oh that's nothing. Just a bruise. I fell over.'

'Fell over what?'

Connor went redder.

'Becker.'

Ryan felt his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline.

'You fell over **Becker**?'

'Well…more **onto **really.'

Clearly Connor was on rare form, co-ordination wise.

'How the hell did you manage that?'

'Yeah…the beds are tiny, and he was sprawled over one of them, and I fell over a protruding leg. And I couldn't stop myself falling without, you know, touching him. So I sort of ended up in his lap.'

Ryan wondered how Becker had taken that. He didn't really have a response for Connor, because how did one respond to a story of straddling an SAS captain? Fortunately, Stephen stepped in.

'Wouldn't worry about it, Conn. It could have been worse. Captain Ryan tried to shoot me.'

Glaring at Stephen, Ryan spun on his heel and strode off in the direction of the bar, resolutely ignoring Connor's incredulous look and questioning squawk.

He'd suspected this trip might be a nightmare.

* * *

On entering the bar, the first thing Ryan saw was a dispirited looking Squid, wound around a stool and a pint at the end of the bar. Ryan ordered a drink of his own, and then wove his way around to the other soldier.

'Why the long face?'

'Horse walks into a bar.' Squid muttered.

'What?'

'It's a joke.'

Ryan wondered just how much Squid could have drunk in the ten minutes the bar had been open.

'I'll rephrase. Is everything okay?'

Squid shrugged and nodded at the same time, faintly resembling a nodding dog dancing on a dashboard.

'Tell me though, how essential exactly **is **the Professor to this team?'

'I believe he's what's referred to as the backbone. Why?'

'So if I killed him, then there'd be hell to pay?'

'Not hell, but you'd have to deal with Lester.'

'Fuck.'

'Sharing a room that bad then?'

Squid shrugged.

'He's like a bloody tank. He talked my ear off about various theories he's got about this serpent thing, he's worse than **Temple**. And when he went to shower, and I moved all his papers from the middle of the floor, I thought he was going to **flatten **me.'

Ryan had to bite off a smile at the imagined reaction of Cutter to Squid piling all of his chaotically arranged and ordered papers to the side in a heap.

'Yeah well. He can be a bit of a pain sometimes, but he's the closest thing we've got to an expert. It's only for a fortnight.'

'Easy for you to say. You got Mr Tall, Dark and Dangerously Handsome. I got stuck with the rumpled, insane and supposedly ruggedly charismatic Scott.'

Ryan was snorting with laughter by now.

'Come on Squid, he's not that bad.'

'Swap with me then. Come on, swap the Supposedly Charismatic Scott for Tall, Dark and Dangerously Handsome, and I'll buy the drinks for the next week.'

'Who's tall, dark and dangerously handsome?' questioned a voice from the vicinity of Ryan's right ear.

To his horror, Ryan could almost feel himself flushing. He glanced at Squid, who grinned at him wickedly.

'Don't want to swap Captain Ryan?'

'No.'

'Who's tall, dark and dangerously handsome?' Stephen repeated his question a glimmer of amusement in the blue eyes.

Squid's grin was now pure evil. He got up from the stool, smiled at Ryan, and leant in close to Stephen.

'Lester.'

Stephen's look of horror said it all.

* * *

A couple of hours later, it was safe to say that the team had made themselves at home, much to the disgruntlement of the locals. Over in the far corner, Abby was trouncing Cutter and Becker at pool, even hampered as she was by Connor. After watching for several minutes, Ryan had to confess that Becker's performance was highly unimpressive, because surely a man who was king of the firing range should be able to aim a bit better than that when hitting a ball with a stick?

Squid seemed to have shaken off his mood, and, lubricated by multiple pints, was engaged in a fierce game of darts with a couple of other hotel guests. He was wiping the floor, and Ryan had a suspicion that unless he toned it down, Becker was going to be breaking up a fist fight by the end of the evening. Although really, the other men hadn't stood a chance, because thanks to the length of Squid's arms, he could get over twice as close to the board as the others before he even had to throw.

Stephen was sitting over in the corner, a pint in front of him, reading a book on aboriginal myths. Despite the busy pub, he had somehow managed to commandeer an entire booth to himself, and whenever he went up to get another drink, a crowd of slack-jawed admirers parted like the Red Sea. Although to be fair, Hart didn't even seem to notice.

However, as Ryan watched, a tall Barbie doll, with hair an extremely unnatural shade of yellow, slid into the booth next to him, and smiled toothily in a way that not even the seemingly oblivious Stephen could mistake for merely polite. Ryan watched the brief flicker of horror on Stephen's face with some amusement, noting the distant way he returned her greeting, shifting to the very edge of the booth, and suddenly becoming fabulously interested in the wood of the table.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ryan had to credit Malibu Barbie with one thing. She was either extremely dense, or extremely thick-skinned. Despite the fact Stephen had barely said more than three words since she'd sat down, was shifting constantly, staring into the middle distance, and had an expression as frozen as an Ice Age, she still did not appear to be picking up on the 'fuck off and leave me alone' vibes. She was smiling, edging ever closer and chattering away nineteen to the dozen. If Stephen moved any further away from her, he was going to fall off the bench, but the man was too polite to just brush her off. Mind you, save for just walking off and leaving her sitting there, there wasn't a huge amount he could do, seeing as the girl didn't appear to have drawn breath for about five minutes.

Just then, Stephen looked up, catching Ryan's eye and the plea for help was clear. Ryan raised an eyebrow. Stephen pouted at him, eyes pleading, which might have been a mistake, because Barbie leant in even closer, a predatory smile spreading over her face. Ryan watched the look on Stephen's face become panicked, and finally took pity on the guy.

He strode over to the table, clapped a hand on Hart's shoulder, and said,

'Sorry to interrupt darling, but could I borrow you for a second?'

Strangling a rising grin at the identically stunned expressions on Stephen and the girl's faces, Ryan seized Stephen's hand where it lay on the table, and dragged him to his feet.

They were up and halfway across the restaurant before Stephen's brain appeared to catch up, and he starting actively walking as opposed to being forcibly marched from the room. When they reached reception, Ryan released Stephen and after five seconds of waiting for him to say something, dead-panned,

'You're welcome.'

Stephen smiled slightly.

'Thanks for the rescue.'

Ryan smiled back.

'Yeah, well, you looked in danger of being eaten.'

Stephen winced slightly, and Ryan really didn't want to know what images had just flashed through his mind. He yawned, the Jet Lag Monster finally getting its teeth into him.

'I'm going to turn in. I'll see you in the morning.'

Stephen yawned, the expression proving catching.

'Yes, good idea. It's been a long day.'

They walked up to the room in silence, Stephen in front, using an unerring sense of direction to triumph over the maze of corridors and find their room.

Once inside, they flipped a coin for who got the bathroom first, threw open every window possible, turned the air conditioning unit on as high as it would go, forgoing peace for a cool breeze, and fell into bed.

Lying there in the darkness, Ryan estimated it would take five minutes at the most before Stephen felt compelled to ask.

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, he was proved correct.

'**Darling??**' Stephen's disembodied voice floated out of the darkness.

Ryan shrugged, which was surprisingly difficult to do lying down, before realising Stephen couldn't see him.

'Well, your subtle hints didn't seem to having any kind of impact. I thought something 'slap in the face' obvious might work better.'

There were a few seconds silence.

'So you chose to play the 'gay' card?'

'Well it was either that or 'disturbingly close brothers'.'

Stephen choked.

'Not homophobic are you, Hart?'

There was silence.

'I can't hear you if you shake your head.' Ryan pointed out.

'No, I'm not homophobic'

He could hear the smile in Stephen's voice.

'So what's the problem?'

'There isn't one. Just took me by surprise.'

'Is the idea of me that repulsive?'

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ryan wanted to kick himself. Jesus Christ, what had possessed him to ask that? There were a few seconds of very tense silence, before Stephen finally said,

'No, the idea of you isn't that repulsive.'

It was a long way from being a compliment, but Ryan found himself inexplicably smiling as he rolled over to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4! This fic just keeps on growing. Thanks to Xanthiae, Nicco1395 (and I'm so sorry about the dialogue! Key is broken on my laptop!!), and katewantstobecomeanactor for the reviews. **

Part 4

When Ryan awoke the next morning, it was to a bed that was surprisingly cold and hard, a lingering image of a suited-and-booted squid brandishing a rolling pin, and a laughing Stephen Hart who appeared about eight feet tall. More than slightly disorientated, Ryan sat up, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the cloud of sleep. Unfortunately, this caused him to crack his head on something wooden and far-too-solid, which did an excellent job of laying him out flat again.

Wincing, Ryan rubbed his now nicely throbbing head, and waited for his usually infallible senses return. But it was only when eight-foot Stephen keeled over, now clutching his stomach, and shrunk to a more reasonable size, that Ryan realised his cold, hard bed was composed of wooden boards, the far-too-solid something was the handle on the chest of drawers and that he was, in fact, lying sprawled on the floor.

Groaning, he levered himself up and round until he was sitting leant against the side of the bed, and glowered at the still weakly chuckling Stephen. After about half a minute, Stephen blinked tears out of now glowing blue eyes (something which might garner him Ryan's forgiveness) and offered him a grin.

'Sorry.'

Ryan glared back.

'Glad I could provide you with a nice morning's entertainment.'

Stephen didn't even have the manners to look bashfully apologetic.

'What **were **you dreaming about?'

Ryan shrugged.

'Don't recall.'

A total lie, but hopefully Stephen wouldn't pick up on that.

'Do you know you talk in your sleep?'

Well he did now.

'I'm a restless sleeper.'

'Thought you army types were supposed to be able to sleep anywhere.'

'It's not getting to sleep that's the problem. I'm not used to a single bed.'

'I'd never have guessed.'

It was far too early for sarcasm, and Ryan considered giving Hart a bruise to match Connor's. However, Stephen must have picked up on the murderous vibes Ryan was sending out, because he smiled.

'Sorry for laughing. I've just never seen anything like the expression on your face when you whacked your head against the drawer. Wasn't aware an SAS Captain could look so much like a kicked puppy.'

Clearly Stephen was reading his vibes **very wrong**.

'Shut up, Hart.'

There were a few more seconds' silence, during which they sat side by side against the bed practicing their self-restraint; Stephen holding back his laughter, and Ryan, his fists. Vaguely recalling some of the stranger details of his dream, Ryan felt compelled to ask. Doing his utmost best to sound detached and casual, he said,

'Did I say anything interesting then?'

Stephen shrugged, although the spark in his eyes told Ryan he wasn't buying the casual attitude.

'Nothing of real importance. Just rambling really.'

Thank God.

Hauling himself to his feet, Ryan contemplated whether his need for food or a shower was greater. Deciding his stomach had to take precedence, he reached for a pair of jeans.

'Alright if I use the bathroom first?'

Ryan nodded distractedly, buttoning his fly.

'Yeah, fine. I'm going down to eat first anyway.'

Already halfway into the bathroom, Stephen paused and turned back.

'Breakfast?' There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

'That's what most normal people eat in the morning, Hart, yes.'

The corner of Stephen's mouth twitched.

'Well, do make sure you avoid rolling pins. Wouldn't want a squid to stick one somewhere nasty.'

Ryan spluttered.

'You said…!'

Stephen's grin was pure evil.

'I lied.'

'You little…!'

But Stephen slammed the door in the nick of time, and the pillow thudded harmlessly to the floor.

Ryan stomped down to breakfast, torn between embarrassment and amusement. He'd spent so long thinking that Stephen was a veritable iceman; cool, calm and always collected, that he hadn't stopped to consider the fact that lurking just below that impeccable surface was a guy that could only be described as a tease. Part of him was highly enjoying seeing glimpses of the 'real' Stephen Hart, but the other part was somewhat irritated that when Stephen shed some of his protective layer, most of Ryan's composure appeared to be torn away as well. In the last day or so, he'd been closer to blushing like a damn school girl than he'd ever been in his life.

Stomping into the restaurant area, Ryan helped himself to fruit and toast, resisting the urge to have a bacon sandwich simply because he was on duty. Somewhat apprehensively, he scanned the dining area for somewhere to sit – it was still a little too early for a dose of Connor or the Professor – and to his relief spotted Becker and Squid sprawled across a table in the far corner.

Wending his way over to them, Ryan winced and resisted the urge to duck as he saw Malibu Barbie and an equally plastic-looking friend settled at a table in the middle. Now was not the time for another encounter.

Sliding into a seat, Ryan grunted a greeting at a barely awake looking Squid, and nodded at Becker, who had his nose buried so far in a cup of coffee Ryan couldn't be entirely sure he wasn't drowning.

For five blissful minutes, the three of them ate in peace, not talking, just relaxing and charging up for the day. Then a tray slammed down, about two millimetres from Ryan's left hand, and an over-exuberant voice, exclaimed,

'Morning guys!'

Ryan suppressed the urge to smack his head on the table. Becker had apparently run out of tact, because he groaned, loud and long (and sounding, to Ryan's ears, faintly obscene) and buried his head in his hands. Only Squid retained some manners.

'Temple.'

Well…sort of manners.

Pulling out a chair, Connor plonked himself down, apparently oblivious to the less than enthusiastic welcome. Ryan noted, in some disgust, that he had succumbed to the lure of a bacon sandwich. There was about a second's silence, during which Connor took his first bite, before,

'Hey, do you know what I realised last night?'

The three soldiers exchanged glances. Once more it was left to Squid.

'No, Connor. What did you realise last night?' Squid's voice was slightly monotone.

'That none of you ever use your proper names!'

What? Where did Temple **come up **with these things?

'What?'

'You don't! I mean, you use your surname, unless of course, you're Ryan Ryan…' There was a pause here, while Connor and Squid grinned at this joke, and Becker and Ryan (who had heard it several thousand times before) exchanged exasperated looks.

'…and Becker never uses **his **first name either, and well…what kind of parent would christen their child Squid?! Is it like, an army thing?'

There was a pause, in which Becker, Squid and Ryan all tried and failed to come up with a sensible reply. Eventually Squid said,

'Yes, yes it's an army thing.'

When Ryan raised an eyebrow, Squid merely shrugged, as if to indicate that this had been the easiest response.

'Oh right. So Squid's a nickname?'

'Of course it's a bloody nickname. You didn't think I was actually **called **that?'

Squid's tone of voice implied he was having serious doubts about Connor's sanity. Oblivious Connor kept going, although Ryan noticed he had finally stopped talking long enough to take a second bite of his sandwich.

'How d'you get it then? Abby reckons it's because you were…you know…'

Squid's raised eyebrow implied that, no, he did not know. Knowing Connor, Ryan wasn't entirely sure he was going to want to either. Connor flushed slightly, as though realising perhaps it would have been better not to have said anything.

'Well…you know…wandering hands, and all that.'

There was a spluttering cough as Becker choked on his coffee, and Ryan couldn't stop a small snort escaping. Squid looked incensed.

'That is **not **why!'

Connor did have the sense to look slightly abashed.

'Sorry. That was Abby's theory, not mine.'

'What's your theory?'

Ryan knew he'd probably regret asking that, but he hadn't been able to resist. Connor blushed further.

'Well, you're you know…tall. And you have really long legs and arms, so I just thought that…'

'You thought I'd been nicknamed after the **animal**?'

'Technically it's a fish.'

'**Shut up Becker or I'll tell Temple your first name.**'

There was no disguising the flash of interest in Connor's eyes, and Ryan felt a flicker of sympathy for Becker at the future he foresaw. Squid was still spluttering.

'Temple, I was **not **nicknamed Squid because I look like a tentacled sea creature.'

'Oh. Why then?'

'It's going to seem terribly dull after your theories.' Becker commented.

Squid glowered.

'I'm a transfer.'

'A what?'

'A transfer. I was in the Marine Corps for two years, before I joined the SAS. The team I joined decided I needed a desultory nickname. They chose Squid. Implying slime and tentacles.'

'Why?'

'Why implying slime and tentacles?'

Ryan rolled his eyes. The sarcasm flew right over Connor's head.

'No, why a desultory nickname?'

'You don't transfer sections in the forces, Connor. You choose land, air, or sea, and you stick with it. If you do change you can't expect a warm welcome.'

'Why?'

Ryan had lost count of how many times Connor had asked that question. Squid appeared short of an answer. He reverted back to the age-old adage.

'It's an army thing.'

'Oh. How come they still call you that now?'

'Unfortunately, by the time I'd proved that I was worthy enough to risk my life saving their asses, the nickname had stuck.'

'That sucks.'

Squid shrugged.

'Not really. I'm used to it.'

'Why though?'

Squid turned his eyes to the heavens.

'Why **what,** Connor?'

'Why did you transfer?'

Squid was staring at him in disbelief.

'Nosey little bugger isn't he?' Ryan muttered to Becker out of the corner of his mouth.

'You have **no idea**' Becker muttered back.

'I transferred because something came up that meant I couldn't be spending months at sea on a boat.'

'Oh right. What?'

Sensing that Squid's patience was rapidly running out, Ryan steered the conversation in a new direction.

'Why don't you ask Becker about his name? Believe me, that's more entertaining.'

Ryan watched as Connor, successfully diverted, turned eager eyes on Becker.

He then found himself cursing violently as a size eight regulation army boot crashed off his shin. Becker smiled sweetly, collecting his things, and rising gracefully from the table.

'Making a swift exit, are we?'

Squid seemed happy enough to join in when Connor was bothering someone else. Becker glowered at him.

'Nothing of the sort. But that's the Professor over by the door, and judging by the way he's waving his arms around, I'd guess that he wants something.'

Looking to where Becker was gesturing, Ryan saw that Cutter was indeed waving them over.

'Quick now, quick now,' muttered Squid, 'before he takes someone's eye out.'

Having finished eating, Ryan swung himself out from under the table, and he and Becker headed across the room, leaving Squid with Connor. Realising belatedly that he'd left his phone on the table, Ryan reversed and headed back to the table, getting within eavesdropping distance just in time to hear Connor say,

'Hey Squid? If **I **was in the army, what nickname d'you reckon they'd give me?'

Swiftly deciding his phone could wait, Ryan beat a hasty retreat.

Two hours later, freshly shaved and showered, Ryan descended to join the others in reception, obeying Cutter's earlier instructions. As he entered the light airy room he was struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. Standing in a line by the door were Stephen, Becker and Squid, each with a rucksack of supplies, and there was no sign of anyone else at all.

'Where's Cutter?'

'Not present.'

'Abby and Connor?'

'Also not present.'

'Late?'

'Either that or evaporated.'

'Great.'

Ten minutes later, the four of them were still standing there. Ryan was starting to lose patience.

'For fuck's sakes, where are they? All they had to do was get **dressed**.'

It was rhetorical question, and none of the others bothered to answer. Squid shoved aside his bag with one foot, and folded himself down the wall to the floor. Becker remained standing, his position upright and unmoving. In fact, standing by the grand entrance as he was, he rather resembled a door pillar in Ryan's opinion. Stephen was leaning against one of the glass windows, one leg crooked up for balance, something which was not endearing him to the receptionist who was glaring and clearly worrying that dirty footprints were going to be left on the glass. Ryan wasn't bothered by the idea of boot prints, but was less at ease with the fact that that particular position was causing Stephen's jeans to pull tight along the length of his thigh. The outline was perfect, and the emphasised shape of muscular thigh and the curve of his buttocks was not much helping Ryan's increasing bad mood.

He had never been a fan of the 'look but don't touch' school of practice.

Finally, twenty minutes later, during which time the four of them had become increasingly irritable, the entire team was assembled in reception and ready to go. The plan for the day, or so the Professor informed them, was to drive out to see the farmer who had found the snake skin, and then drive to see the skin itself which was being held in cold storage in the nearest Government facility.

Ryan was tempted to ask exactly what the point of Becker, Squid and himself was on this particular task. Because they were only there to bail out the scientists if things went arse over teacups, and he was having trouble seeing exactly where the potential for disaster was in an Australian farmer and a dead roll of skin.

Unfortunately, just as he was about to get Becker to voice this particular query (because he would do so far more tactfully than Ryan), a highly-pitched squeal broke the reasonable peace.

'Steeppphheennnn!'

The entire team turned towards the door. A tall blonde was rushing towards them, dragging her friend by the hand. Oh God, it was Malibu Barbie. Ryan resisted the urge to pound his head against the wall.

'Steeepphhheeennnn!'

The squeal was longer this time, and the entire team turned away from the door and feasted curious eyes on the unfortunate Stephen. Stephen's eyes sought Ryan's and they exchanged a look of pure horror.

'Oh **God**,' Stephen muttered, sounding distinctly nervous.

'Stephen!!!!' Malibu Barbie had come to a halt about three inches from his nose. Stephen visibly recoiled. Abby's shoulders were shaking as she tried and failed to hold back her laughter.

'Stephen? Aren't you going to introduce us to your…friend?'

Stephen swallowed.

'Um…yes…this is…' he paused, eyes flicking to Ryan's in another plea for help. Luckily he was saved as Barbie barrelled forward and seized Abby's hand, beaming.

'Natalie! Lovely to meet you! Stephen didn't mention he had so many friends staying here!'

At this sentence she turned a predatory beam on Squid and Becker, who both took a step back, their faces donning the same wary expression as Stephen's. Abby looked amused, Connor and the Professor just **bemused**. All in all, the situation was quite wonderfully awkward.

There were a few seconds quiet, and just as the silence was approaching oppressive, Natalie's friend re-announced her presence with a small cough.

'Oh yes! Everyone, this is Sharon!' Natalie seized her friend by the hand, dragging her forward, and Ryan spared a second to wonder if she ever uttered a sentence that didn't end in an exclamation mark.

'Sharon' smiled slightly awkwardly. Natalie beamed.

'Sharon, this is everybody!'

Sharon's smile became distinctly weaker.

'This is Stephen! Remember the guy I told you about meeting last night? And these are all Stephen's friends!'

A feeling of pure relief stole over Ryan as he failed to warrant an invitation. Obviously his little performance last night hadn't been fabulously memorable. Glancing at Stephen, he saw relief in his eyes as well, and they exchanged a brief grin.

'Oh!' Natalie turned to Ryan with a luminous smile. 'I nearly didn't recognise you in uniform!'

There was second's pause, which felt to Ryan much much longer, and during which he had a strong sense of impending doom, before Natalie announced,

'And this is Ryan! Stephen's partner!'

Even Connor appeared lost for words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Finally got around to posting the rest of this :) Huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/alerted so far.**

* * *

'Oh!' Natalie turned to Ryan with a luminous smile. 'I nearly didn't recognise you in uniform!'

There was a second's pause, which felt to Ryan much much longer, and during which he had a strong sense of impending doom, before Natalie announced,

'And this is Ryan! Stephen's partner!'

_Even Connor appeared lost for words._

Ryan had always considered himself a forthright, blunt sort of person. If he had a problem, he dealt with it. He was not a believer in agonising. He was also extremely difficult to embarrass, and had no patience with people who, when in a difficult situation, prayed for the ground to swallow them whole.

However, as he stood, surrounded by a team of crack scientists, a couple of his men, and two Malibu Barbies, he was rapidly reconsidering that particular philosophy. Right now, it would be quite nice just to sink through the floor and avoid this entire issue.

Summoning the courage that had won him promotion to Special Forces Captain, Ryan shot a glance sideways at Stephen. The other man had his eyes shut, and if Ryan were to hazard a guess at what was going on inside his head, he would have said Stephen was either praying for divine intervention or reverting to the five year old adage that if you can't see a problem, it can't see you. Obviously he was going to be no help.

Abby had turned away politely, and was looking entranced across the entrance car park as though it were the best thing since sliced bread, but no well-mannered averting of gaze could hide the fact that her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

Connor and the Professor, neither world-renowned for their tact, were still staring in shock, and Cutter's mouth was literally hanging open as he stared as his lab assistant.

Malibu Barbie's friend, whom, due to a lack of surnames in the introductions Ryan had mentally christened Simply Sharon, was staring at Becker and Squid with something of a predatory look on her face. The two soldiers were both standing casually, and deliberately not looking in her direction.

Whoever had uttered the phrase 'silence is golden' was clearly a prat because Ryan had never experienced a silence as horribly awkward and suffocating as this. Swivelling his gaze, Ryan looked at the last member of the happy crowd, Motor Mouth herself. To his horror, she was looking right back at him.

Unfortunately, Natalie appeared to misinterpret his horrified look, because she smiled guiltily and simpered,

'Oh dear, have I put my foot in it? God, I'm so sorry, I'm such a blabbermouth!'

Only the gentlemen buried somewhere deep inside him kept Ryan from agreeing with her wholeheartedly.

'God, I'm such an idiot, I'm so so sorry! I didn't realise it was all a big secret! I mean, you seemed so confident about it last night and…'

At the words 'confident about it last night', Ryan could almost feel five sets of eyes swivel and land eagerly on him and Stephen, clearly wondering exactly what they had been confident about the previous evening. He swiftly decided that he had to stop Natalie talking. As in, now. Sadly, as Stephen had discovered last night, he had more chance of stopping the Terminator single-handedly than of halting her in mid-sentence.

'…and I just thought, I mean nowadays, it's much more accepted isn't it, so I just presumed all your friends would know, because, you know, most people are totally fine with it, and I mean, you do look so good together, it's really rather sweet….'

'Oh Christ,' Ryan muttered, rather more loudly than he had intended to.

Natalie paused and looked at him questioningly.

'Pardon?'

Luckily at that moment Stephen cleared his throat. Stepping forward, he bestowed a gleaming smiled on the girl in front of him.

'Don't worry about it Natalie. You weren't to know it wasn't public knowledge. It all had to come out sometime anyway.'

'It did?' Ryan asked, before he could stop himself.

Stephen shot him a Look, which Ryan returned with gusto. What the fuck was Hart playing at? Where were the vehement denials? The 'This is all a fucking mistake's? He could only imagine the looks of sheer glee that would be spreading over Squid and Becker's faces right this minute. Special Forces was a euphemism for rumour mill, and this would quite possibly be the best gossip they'd had all year.

Natalie had opened her mouth, presumably to apologise some more, but Stephen cut her off. Despite himself Ryan was impressed.

'Really, Natalie it's fine. It wasn't your fault at all, you couldn't have known. There's no need to apologise…'

At this, Stephen appeared to have run out of things to say, and he looked to Ryan for help. Very surprisingly, it was Nick who came to the rescue.

'And now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get to work. It was nice to meet you.'

The Professor bestowed a warm smile on Natalie and her friend, and Ryan found himself absently noting how his eyes crinkled at the corners as he did so. And wonderfully, the combination of the smile and the Scottish accent appeared to have charmed Natalie and Sharon because they both smiled back, and began to utter goodbyes.

Abby reached over, and opened the door to the car park, and Stephen dashed through it, completely obvious in his desperation to be as far away from the situation as possible. He was followed by a still giggling Abby, Connor, Becker and Squid, and lastly the Professor.

As Ryan shouldered his pack and moved towards the door, Natalie leant in close, smiling conspiratorially. Ryan refused to allow himself to recoil, figuring he owed her that because she had seemed genuinely sorry.

She leant closer and closer and he thought for one heart-freezing second she might kiss him, but she just smiled ever the wider, and bent to whisper in his ear,

'I do hope it will be okay. I'd hate to see anything happen, because you and Stephen, you do make the cutest couple.'

The indignity at being referred to as both 'sweet' and 'cute' in the space of five minutes overrode Ryan's gentlemanly attempts not to recoil, and he staggered backwards.

Sensing Hart's eyes watching curiously from across the car park, Ryan pasted a weak smile onto his face, hoping his expression read 'Thank you for your support' as opposed to 'Say that again and I might have to machine gun you', and made a hasty bid for freedom and the Land Rover.

It wasn't until they were a good fifteen minutes into the drive to their first destination that Ryan finally found himself relaxing slightly, lulled by the breath-taking scenery flashing past the window. Stephen was driving, having reached the car long before anyone else, and this had the advantage of him not having to worry about the near death experiences they frequently experienced when Miss Maitland took the wheel.

Squid was once more draped over the back of land rover, and impressively, considering both the heat and the space available, Cutter was asleep in the back seat.

Ryan was riding shotgun, which was nice, because he hadn't much fancied being squashed in the back, directly in the firing range for jokes. At least this way there was a barrier of about four inches of foam and fabric in between him and the rest of the team.

Unfortunately, the price he had had to pay for this luxury had been Squid bowing low and swoopingly offering him the seat next to Stephen with a grin on his face that intimated he might just have won the lottery whilst having sex. When they returned to the ARC, Ryan would find some suitably heinous task, possibly related to babysitting Connor on field trips, as revenge for that.

Another five or so minutes passed in silence before Abby finally broke the peace, and really, Ryan was impressed that her self-control had lasted that long.

'So…guys…an explanation?'

Ryan sighed.

'It was a mistake. Last night, Natalie decided to pounce on the brooding and mysterious man alone in the corner and Hart is too much of a gentleman to tell her to piss off. When things progressed to the stage where it looked like he might get eaten alive, I staged a rescue, and got rid of her.'

'By playing the gay card?'

Even in a mere five words, the incredulity in Abby's voice rang loud and clear. Stephen chose this moment to butt in.

'Apparently it was either that or 'disturbingly close brothers'.'

There was a muffled snort and then some gasping, and Ryan wondered idly if someone had choked. Preferably Becker. After a couple of seconds, Abby spoke up again, sounding surprisingly composed.

'Nothing to it really then?'

Was it Ryan's imagination or did she sound the tiniest bit disappointed?

'No.'

'So…why did Stephen tell Natalie it was true?'

And why, just why, did Temple have to choose this moment to showcase a previously unforeseen intuition?

'Because if I admitted I was in fact not gay, I had a horrible feeling I'd be on the receiving end of another come-on.'

'Oh right.'

Stephen's answer appeared to satisfy both Connor and Abby. And really, Ryan could see there was a lot of truth to what he'd said. For someone so unfairly attractive, Hart really did seem awkward about that sort of liaison.

There was quiet in the truck for a few seconds, and Ryan dared to hope they might have satisfied the curiosity. But then Becker opened his mouth and that hope was blown to kingdom come.

'You're definitely not doing Hart then?'

Typically Becker was looking for his own confirmation from Ryan, probably because he knew Ryan had few qualms about lying, unless it was to people he actually gave a damn about. And as the Best Mate, Becker sadly fell into that category - although after that particularly blunt question, Ryan was struggling to remember quite why.

'No Becker. I am not doing Stephen. Clear enough for you?'

'Crystal.'

'So can we fucking drop it?'

As soon as he'd uttered the words, Ryan knew he'd potentially made a huge mistake. He didn't have to turn around to see the smirk he knew would be on Becker's face right now.

'Drop it?'

The tone of Becker's voice implied Ryan had in fact suggested he try to juggle giraffes while dancing naked in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

Silently, he weighed up the likelihood of being able to murder Becker before they returned to the ARC, making it look entirely accidental, of course.

Eventually, somewhat later than planned, they arrived at their destination. The journey had gone swimmingly until they had had to turn off the main road (and admittedly, up until that point there had only been one option in terms of direction), and had from then on disintegrated into snapping at each other, pouring over incomprehensible maps and cursing to high heaven the lack of Australian road signs.

All-in-all, it had been to much relief all round that Connor had spotted the sign reading 'Backerwell Storage Facilities' and Stephen had turned off the road, and driven through a pair of ominously spiked iron gates.

They were now standing in what appeared to be a scrap metal yard, and waiting for whoever it was that had buzzed them through the gates. Remembering Cutter's earlier description of this place as a Government storage facility, Ryan was amusing himself by picturing Lester's face if the man could see the differences between Backerwell and the ARC. Where the ARC was all shiny chrome, and modern minimalism, Backerwell was old heaps of machinery in corners, the faint clanging of metal, and large nondescript grey buildings, presumably for the aforementioned 'storage'.

When he was done with this and there was still no sign of life, Ryan turned his attention to trying to catch Stephen's eye, still slightly curious about the other man's performance back in the hotel reception. However, Stephen appeared devoutly interested in the toes of his hiking boots and was resolutely avoiding Ryan's gaze.

Sighing, Ryan scanned the rest of the team, and was somewhat alarmed to find Abby's eyes on him, a gleam of mischief and amusement present in the light blue. He'd caught her catching him watching Stephen, only she thought that she'd caught him watching Stephen. Fuck. Ryan pulled his expressionless façade back into place and smiled at her politely, the way the Prime Minister might smile at a political enemy.

Abby, unfortunately, grinned right back, seeming un-fooled and completely undeterred. Ryan was forcefully reminded of why he never again wanted to marry a woman, and why they should perhaps, run the world.

Behind him Squid was teaching Becker a rude rhyme about hobgoblins.

It had taken all of fifteen minutes for the scientist that was supposed to have been meeting them to actually appear, and when he did it was in a flurry of mismatched clothing, misplaced spectacles, and misremembered names (Abby became Amy, Professor Cutter became Professor Cooter and the unfortunate Squid became Squat).

The resemblance to Nick was alarmingly strong, and Ryan had a distinct suspicion he'd just met Professor Cutter, Australian style.

They were ushered through an endless maze of identical corridors. Whatever organisational skills this Professor might have, he clearly had an unfailing sense of direction.

The corridors were all lined with grey doors, which Ryan could only presume lead to storage vaults, and after a five minute walk, the Professor, who had since introduced himself as Michael Gray, stopped in front of one labelled 317.

He cranked down a handle, and with a hiss of escaping air, the door slid open. The Professor held the door, and single-file, they all shuffled in.

The air inside the vault was very cold, presumably to preserve its contents, and it was a lot bigger than Ryan had been expecting; roughly fifteen square metres in floor space.

However, it wasn't so much the amount of space that he was finding the most shocking, but the object that was taking it up.

In the centre of the room, curled concentrically into a circle, was the largest snake skin Ryan had ever seen, and that included in horror films. He traced it with his eyes, from the pointed tip of the tail, all the way round three spirals, to the outline of a head that was roughly the size of a well-fed cow.

'Bloody hell,' Squid muttered in Ryan's ear, and Ryan would have been prepared to bet his grandmother that the other man was thinking something a lot ruder.

Professor Gray didn't seemed discouraged by their unhinged jaws and gormless expressions, because he moved right up to the skin, stroked a hand lovingly along a length of the back and said,

'Quite impressive isn't she?'

'She?' The disbelief in the normally immovable Becker's voice perfectly represented what Ryan himself was feeling.

Professor Gray did not seem to pick up on the tone though, and replied seriously,

'I call her Rita.'

Squid emitted a strangled squawk that sounded halfway between laughter and horror.

'We found her a couple of miles away from here, in the boundaries of one of the outlying ranches. A ranch hand discovered her while checking the perimeter fence. Called it into the police who contacted my team…' Cutter made a questioning noise, '…I'm head of the Zoology Department at Queensland University. Of course we've never seen anything like it. The ranch hand seemed to think it was some kind of mythical monster, but it looks to me more like some kind of hybrid, or experiment.'

Ryan took from this that the Government hadn't considered it necessary to tell the Professor about the anomalies.

Gray, now absently polishing a scale with the corner of his jacket, was still talking.

'…funny, the ranch hand and those Government men seemed quite disgusted by her. I can't understand it – never come across a specimen like this in my life, and probably never will again. She's magnificent, absolutely…'

'Beautiful,' murmured Cutter, who had apparently regained his voice. He moved forward, bending to examine the skin in more detail.

'Oh my God, there's two of them,' Squid muttered.

Ryan suppressed a smile; watching the two Professors - now talking animatedly and gesturing at various parts of the snake's anatomy. Gray was looking at Cutter in glee, obviously delighted at finding a kindred spirit, and Cutter looked like Christmas had come early.

After a few moments, Abby and Connor moved forward to join in. Knowing Abby's love of reptiles and Connor's boundless enthusiasm for everything prehistoric, this did not surprise Ryan in the slightest.

He, however, along with Becker and Squid remained firmly stationed by the door.

'Well,' Becker murmured, 'there's no accounting for taste.'

'Beauty is in the eye of beholder,' Squid reminded him sagely.

Looking sideways at Stephen, Ryan had to agree with this wholeheartedly.

Cutter was looking at 'Rita' as though he'd rather like to take her home and display her in his living room. The expression of complete and utter revulsion on Stephen's face was saying something else entirely.


End file.
